From: Bytchlips [email protected]
Last Friday night, down at the roadhouse,
Booth in the back, they sat alone.
Holding hands, like two young lovers,
Her hair was gray, his hair was gone.
She said to him, I’m getting older,
A pretty girl, no more to be.
Heaven knows, I’m not a treasure
He softly said, you are to me,
You are to me, a girl in spring time.
The one I met, so long ago,
A moment captured, for a lifetime,
That’s what I see, you are to me.
He said to her, my work is done now.
And all that’s left, are memories.
Heaven knows, I’m not important.
She softly said, you are to me.
You are to me, a boy in spring time.
The one I met, so long ago,
A moment captured, for a lifetime,
That’s what I see, you are to me.
That’s what I see, you are to me.